


“Here, take my hand. Everything is fine, just hold onto me and keep moving.”

by Aidaran, StarTravel



Series: Garashir ficlets and drabbles [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cardassia, Dominion War, Hope, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon Cardassia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 21:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19876414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aidaran/pseuds/Aidaran, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: Life is not easy in Cardassia, but they are not alone.





	“Here, take my hand. Everything is fine, just hold onto me and keep moving.”

It’s been 3 months since the end of the war. Sometimes Garak feels numb, just too tired to notice the rubble all around him. The destruction. He coughs so hard all the time because of the dust, his eyes are too teary to see anything anymore.

But then Garak sees an old house, one he remembers from his childhood, in ruins. If he makes a little effort, he can remember the nice woman that used to live there, and who gave him sweets when it was his birthday. He’s been anxious for himself, for bringing Julian here, and most of all Cardassia.

It’s the last straw for his mind that day. He saw all the ill people in the hospital, he helped with a landslide until the sun started to set. He just can’t take it anymore.

He just loses it and runs toward the rubble, digging into the ruins. Pain travels through his hands but he doesn’t care, trying to lift something, anything. Julian follows him, voice soft as he kneels down next to him, one hand on his shoulder. 

“Garak, there’s nothing here to save.”

"You don't know that! Maybe there's somebody living down there in the basement, surviving out of scraps! I heard noises, Julian!" He doesn't even notice his fingers are bleeding.

Julian gently takes his right hand, enveloping his fingers around it. He caresses his cheek until Garak’s eyes come back into focus, red and with dilated pupils.

“Elim.” Garak stubbornly shakes his head. “Here, take my hand. Everything is fine, just hold on to me and keep moving.”

"But I heard noises." His voice is just a whisper.

“It’s crumbling stones in the rocks, love. Just come with me. There’s only rubble here.”

"But what if..." He allows Julian to pull his arm to get up, shakily coming to his feet.

“Trust me, I now know what people buried alive sound like.” Julian says as gently as possible as he guides Garak on the path toward their house.

He shakes his head. He feels a bit more like himself, a bit less likely to start panicking again. His cheeks burn from the effort and the shame.

"Of course, after 3 months here you’d know. I'm sorry, I was irrational."

“It’s all right, love. Let’s just rest for a bit. It was a long day.” Julian leads him inside, squeezing his arm softly as he pushes them both through the door.

"I just feel so useless." He sits on one of the few chairs they have. He feels guilty for dragging Julian to such a wasteland, after a life full of luxury with the Federation. And the fact that Julian never complains about their living quarters makes it worse. He doesn’t deserve this.

Julian sits next to him on a stool, leaning in to still keep physical contact, a hand squeezing Garak’s own. His voice is almost delicate. 

“You’re not. The work you’re doing to help rebuild and provide medical supplies is more than necessary.”

"But hardly enough. And just look at you! Not even a chair! You're using a stool you found in the middle of a rubble pile. I brought you to a wasteland."

“Yes, and I’m quite alright. It’s doing wonderful things for my posture.” He wiggles a bit to demonstrate.

"Oh yes, I imagine having one shorter leg in your seat is standard treatment."

“Maybe not, but I personally like it. It gives the chair character.”

Garak gives him a small smile at that. 

"I spent the last 7 years telling you about the wonders you'd find in my homeland."

“And I’ve found them in the resilience of the people here, in their devotion to rebuilding and to protecting one another.”

"And in a crooked stool."

“Yes, and in a crooked stool.” Julian smiles crookedly and squeezes his hand, gaze warm.

Garak sighs, looking at him and coughing a little. He hopes that will cover the fact that his eyes are not red just because of the dirt.

"I think we could be a bit wasteful and use that nice tea Ezri sent you last week, don't you think?"

“Of course, that sounds lovely, Elim. I’ll make us a cup.” Julian squeezes his hand one more time before rolling to his feet.

In post bombardment Cardassia, all water has to be boiled, but unless it's in tea mode, the weird taste is impossible to take out of it. Something between dirt and things present in the water Julian prefer not to think about. But it's so hard to get tea leaves that they only use them in special occasions.

Julian happily makes two cups, using a sparing amount of tea leaves. They have to save, after all. He misses sugar, but there’s nothing to be done.

Elim is looking through the window when he comes back to the table. 

"Seems the garden is finally starting to grow. I may have some vegetables for us soon. I think you'd like our food."

“I’m sure I will. And you can teach me how to cook. I’m also coming along with my latest vaccine for the plague. I think spring will be good.”

"Thanks."

He takes his hand while he sips his tea.

Julian smiles and holds it while he drinks his with the other. Garak smiles at him. 

"Maybe you're right. Cardassia still has good things."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!


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